


To Wake and Reach for Hands That Are Not There

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-04
Updated: 2009-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the things that his magic did was allow him to mentally travel while he was asleep. The title is a part of a quote by Otomo No Yakamochi: “Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Wake and Reach for Hands That Are Not There

He didn’t mean to do it. The first time had been a total accident. One of the things that his magic did was allow him to mentally travel while he was asleep. He didn’t do it often, because, well, magic was illegal in Camelot, and he might get caught somehow. Besides, he was always afraid he wouldn’t be able to get back.

The first time, he’d been extremely tired, since both Gaius and Arthur had insisted that he do all kinds of ridiculous things for them, and if he never saw a leech again it would be too soon.

So, he’d been exhausted, and fallen asleep quickly, only to find himself floating through the corridors. Something seemed to be drawing him towards Arthur’s chamber, which he usually avoided like the plague whenever he did this.

He’d no sooner thought that than he was suddenly _there,_ hovering above Arthur’s bed, and Arthur seemed to be having some sort of nightmare, thrashing about and moaning faintly.

And then he was abruptly _in_ the dream, and Arthur, who was not-so-incidentally naked, had him shoved against a wall with his tongue down Merlin’s throat.

Merlin pushed him away out of reflex. “Arthur! What the _hell?!_ ” Because, dream or not, Arthur should not be _kissing_ him.

Arthur immediately pulled away, looked uncertain. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted…”

“Why on Earth would I want to be _assaulted?_ ” Merlin demanded, realising two things as he said it. One, he was also naked, and two, he _did_ want, if the state of his body was anything to go by. He wondered why he had been plunked down in the middle of Arthur’s dream…Arthur’s _erotic_ dream, about _him_ …and whether that was not taking verisimilitude a bit _too_ far.

Arthur’s face shuttered. “I apologise. I would never force anything on you against your will.”

Which was true, Merlin knew it. “That’s…alright,” he managed, and as Arthur began putting on his clothes again everything fogged, and he was suddenly back in his own bed, extremely confused and, he noticed with a mixture of annoyance and shame, hard.

He growled and rolled over. He should _not_ be turned on by the thought of Arthur kissing him! It was just a stupid dream anyway, it didn’t mean anything. Arthur probably wouldn’t even remember it.

It took him a long time to fall asleep again.

***

The next day, he dropped Arthur’s breakfast tray on the floor, since Arthur was _still in bed_ when he got there.

Arthur glared at him. “Clean that up. And be quick about it, you’ll have to fetch another tray and I don’t want it to be cold!”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said, picking up the broken crockery and then fetching a rag to wipe up the gravy.

He fled back to the kitchens, attempting to get himself back under control.

By the time he got back, he was a bit more composed, but any composure he’d managed to gather evaporated when Arthur commanded, “Help me get dressed.”

He did it, because he couldn’t very well refuse…well he could, but Arthur would make him do it anyway. He peeled off Arthur’s shift, trying hard to ignore the skin under his hands and the memory of Arthur’s body pressing him into the wall.

He somehow managed to get Arthur dressed, fumbling more than usual and prompting Arthur to say, “Have I mentioned lately that you’re the worst manservant ever?”

“Not lately, sire,” Merlin said, as he finished tying the lacings on Arthur’s wrists, trying not to linger over the pulse point.

“Consider it mentioned then.”

***

Merlin collapsed on his bed at the end of the day. He had no clue how he’d managed to get through it. He kept dropping things, or knocking things over, and Arthur had made increasingly biting comments as the day went on.

All day he had been thinking about the dream, almost obsessing over it. _It was just a fluke, it didn’t mean anything!_

But he couldn’t know that for certain…unless…

 _No,_ he told himself sternly. _You’re not doing that again. It’s wrong, it’s an invasion of privacy, you’re not doing it!_

 _Just to check…_ wheedled the part of him that had been thinking about the column of Arthur’s throat, noticing the play of muscles on his chest.

_No!_

He resolutely ignored the coaxing voice, waiting to fall asleep.

***

When he found himself in Arthur’s room again, he wasn’t really surprised. He just had a moment to see him sleeping before he was on Arthur’s bed, Arthur sucking at his neck as he fumbled with his tunic lacings.

“You alright with this?” he asked.

“I…yes,” Merlin managed, still trying to get his bearings.

“You’re sure?” Arthur pressed him, managing to get his tunic and shirt off and running his hands down his chest before lowering his head to suck at his nipple.

“ _Arthur!_ ” Merlin arched up and took hold of Arthur’s hair as he laughed smugly.

Arthur pulled away, staring into his eyes. “Merlin. I need to know this is OK with you.”

 _Tell him no, tell him no!_ “It’s fine,” he replied, hating himself, but unable to refuse. _This is wrong. You should leave!_ But he didn’t know _how_ to leave without letting Arthur know he was there in the first place, not to mention his higher brain functions were impaired by the fact that Arthur was…oh _gods_ …he was licking down Merlin’s stomach and undoing his breeches.

If he had thought about having sex with Arthur…which he hadn’t, honestly, until last night…he would never have expected him to do this. It was too submissive, too unselfish.

But he was doing it, matter-of-factly shucking off Merlin’s breeches and taking Merlin’s cock into his mouth.

Merlin tried to keep from thrusting up toward it, but, gods, Arthur was _good,_ sucking at Merlin’s cock with the single-minded determination he gave to everything, and when he pulled off slightly and swirled his tongue around the head Merlin made a broken noise and wrapped his fingers in his hair.

He could feel Arthur smirk against him as he dove down again, massaging the vein on the underside, and after dealing with him all day and being unable to _do_ anything it was too much. Merlin came with a stuttering groan down Arthur’s throat.

Arthur swallowed his come, and Merlin found himself swallowing as well at the sight.

Then Arthur moved up to kiss him, softly, and Merlin could taste himself in Arthur’s mouth. His cock twitched.

Arthur pulled back and smiled at him, a soft smile Merlin had never seen before that was heartbreaking in its openness. “You alright?”

“I…yeah. Arthur–”

_I have to tell him. He won’t bother with the executioner, he’ll kill me himself, but I have to tell him._

“Let me fuck you, Merlin.”

Merlin winced. He wanted to, gods he wanted to, but he couldn’t. He’d done far too much already.

But Arthur was looking at him, open and hopeful and tender, and he couldn’t say no. He didn’t think anyone could have. “OK.”

Arthur smiled brilliantly and moved atop him. He thrust in, with no warning, and Merlin tensed reflexively, expecting pain, but there was none. _Oh, right, this is a dream. The rules don’t apply._

That sent another lance of guilt through him, but Arthur had started moving, his eyes locked with Merlin’s, expression intent. Merlin caught his breath as Arthur pulled out. He kissed Arthur, desperately, expecting him to pull away, but he didn’t, kissing him back just as fiercely.

“Mine!” Arthur growled, moving down to suck a bruise on Merlin’s throat.

“Yours,” he gasped in agreement, despising himself for taking advantage of Arthur like this.

Then he stopped thinking, arching mindlessly towards Arthur’s thrusts, keening as Arthur shifted his angle. Arthur smirked, and hit that spot again, and again, and Merlin’s hands fisted in the bedsheets.

His cock was hard again, and when Arthur reached between them to stroke it, Merlin came a second time, with a strangled cry that might have been Arthur’s name.

Arthur followed him over, gripping Merlin’s shoulders so hard that if this were real he would have left bruises. Merlin found himself sad that he wouldn’t have marks on him tomorrow to show what they’d done, then mentally slapped himself. _You shouldn’t have done this in the first place!_

Arthur slumped down on top of him, but after a moment he rolled off. Merlin reached over and smoothed the sweaty fringe off his forehead, then kissed him softly, a goodbye. He wouldn’t allow himself to do this again. “Thank you.”

Arthur looked at him bemusedly. “I know I’m good, Merlin, but you don’t have to thank me.”

Merlin’s answering laugh was more than half sob, as the dream dissipated around them.

***

He didn’t wake again until the next morning. He magicked away the mess on the sheets, refusing to think about what he’d done, then left his room.

“Good morning, Merlin,” Gaius greeted him. “Did you sleep well?”

He started, trying his best not to look guilty. “Uh…yeah.” Gaius was always chiding him for using his magic frivolously. If he found out about this… Merlin shuddered. He might as well turn himself in to Uther. He would still be dead, but at least it would be quick.

“Have some breakfast.”

He sat down and ate what Gaius gave him without even registering what it was. He would have to deal with Arthur again today. After taking advantage of him last night in a dream.

_He didn’t know it was a dream. He thought it was real._

It didn’t matter. If Arthur had really wanted to do that, he’d have done it. Since he hadn’t, the dream was just something his mind had conjured up, for whatever reason.

_Two nights in a row?_

Merlin ignored the voice trying to persuade him that he hadn’t done anything wrong, squared his shoulders, and headed for Arthur’s rooms.

***

Arthur was already dressed when he got there, which Merlin was thankful for, despite the glower he wore in addition to his clothes. “You’re late again!”

“Yes, sire. Sorry, sire.”

Merlin put the breakfast tray down. Arthur gave him an odd look, but Merlin avoided his eyes.

“I’ll need you to muck out the stables today,” Arthur said around a mouthful of roll.

“Yes, sire,” Merlin agreed, with a feeling of relief. Cleaning the stables was disgusting, but it would give him an excuse to avoid Arthur.

“Are you feeling alright?” Arthur asked, making as if to get up.

“Fine! I’m fine!” Merlin blurted, waving his arms at Arthur and barely managing to keep from backing away from him.

“Only you haven’t complained about my making you muck out the stables,” Arthur replied, his eyes narrowed.

 _Damn._ “Oh, that. I enjoy shovelling horse shit, and I haven’t done it in awhile. I should thank you,” Merlin said, trying for his normal tone. “After all, not every master is magnanimous enough to let his manservant do double duty as a stableboy.”

Arthur smirked, his suspicions allayed, for the moment. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll get to it then, shall I?” Merlin asked.

“You do that,” Arthur said, turning back to his breakfast.

***

It took him three hours to muck out the stables, and by the time he was done, he was sore, sweaty and filthy,

He went back to Arthur’s chambers, only to have Arthur dismiss him immediately with a “God, Merlin, you reek! I don’t want you in here! Go polish my armour!”

So he’d gone down to the armoury and polished Arthur’s armour until it gleamed, focussing on the task in lieu of thinking. But he’d done it often enough that it couldn’t hold his attention for long, and he found his thoughts wandering, back to the dream.

Arthur had been…well, possessive, certainly, but that wasn’t surprising. What _was_ surprising was how open he’d been, and the fact that he’d seen to Merlin first, both of which seemed unlike him.

And Merlin…he tried not to think about the trust Arthur had shown him last night, trust that was entirely misplaced. He also tried not to think about how comfortable he’d been with Arthur, how _right_ it had felt to do that with him.

_Stop it. It will never happen, so you should just forget about it._

He sighed. Forget about it. Easier said than done.

***

The next day he was still awkward around Arthur, even without visiting his dreams again, so much so that, after he’d spilled Arthur’s wine at lunch for the third time in a row, Arthur finally lost what little patience he had. “For God’s _sake,_ Merlin!”

“Sorry!” he muttered, wiping the table with the already-sodden cloth.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Arthur growled, taking the cloth from him.

“Sire?”

“Look, just…take the rest of the day off. I can get along without you for that long. Get some sleep or something.”

Merlin detected the concern lurking beneath Arthur’s impatience, and was simultaneously touched and guilty. “Thank you, sire.”

He spent the rest of the day gathering herbs for Gaius, the quiet energy of the forest soothing him.

***

He kept to his vow of staying in his own dreams for three weeks, until he was able to look Arthur in the eye again.

But then came the news that there was a delegation of nobles coming from Rheged with their king, most of whom had daughters. Although Rheged did not share a border with Camelot, Uther was eager to foster good relations, and possibly cement an alliance with marriage. The King himself had no daughters, so Arthur couldn’t marry one of them, however the nobles coming with him had quite a bit of influence.

Arthur had been fretting; training obsessively, leaving his knights nearly comatose; snapping at Merlin for no reason at all; and generally making everyone miserable.

Merlin knew Arthur hated playing the courtier, although he could be as attentive and gracious as anyone could ask when he had to. He preferred action to talk, war to romance.

He knew Arthur was only upset at the prospect of having to marry someone he barely knew, despite the fact that he would have known from a very young age that it was a possibility.

So Merlin tried to be sympathetic. “The negotiations might fall through, you know.”

“What?” Arthur snapped, looking up from where he’d been sharpening a dagger (Merlin’s job, but he wasn’t about to protest when Arthur had a weapon).

“I said the negotiations might fall through. Or else they might find another way to cement the alliance.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow sceptically, but he managed a sickly smile. “That’s true.”

“At any rate, they’re not here yet. Why worry about something that hasn’t happened, and might not even happen?”

“I’m not _worried,_ Merlin!” Arthur snapped.

“Oh, of course. You’ve been driving everyone to distraction since you heard about the delegation because you’re eagerly anticipating their arrival.”

Arthur glared at him. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Merlin.”

Merlin bowed sarcastically. “Yes, sire.”

***

That night he found himself in Arthur’s chambers without even realising he’d fallen asleep.

 _Not again!_ He had _not_ wanted to come here, had told himself he wouldn’t, but apparently his magic had other ideas.

Arthur stood by the window, gazing out, his shoulders hunched. Merlin approached him cautiously.

“Arthur?”

When Arthur turned to face him, any anger Merlin had felt toward him evaporated. Arthur’s face was a mass of doubt, anxiety and pain.

Without thinking about it, Merlin put his arms around him, and Arthur sighed and relaxed into his embrace.

Merlin stroked his hair, half-expecting Arthur to growl at him, but he didn’t. He only looked up at him for a moment, before burying his face in Merlin’s shoulder again.

Merlin realised his shoulder was damp, and the thought of Arthur _crying,_ on his _shoulder,_ made him feel like the biggest louse in Camelot. But Arthur needed him; he couldn’t leave.

“It’ll be OK.” It wouldn’t, most likely. The chances of Arthur marrying for love were slim; they both knew that.

“It won’t,” Arthur said, his voice muffled. “I’ll have to marry one of them, or if not them, someone else I’ve never met.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held him, but after a moment Arthur pulled back and looked at him, then kissed him fiercely.

Merlin responded, against his better judgement, and Arthur drew him toward the bed.

Arthur pulled him down atop him, tugging his neckerchief off to mouth at his throat. Merlin tilted his head back to give him better access, his fingers fumbling with the laces of Arthur’s tunic.

His conscience was screaming at him, but he ignored it, as Arthur tore the lacings on his tunic trying to remove it.

Merlin pushed his hands away before he could do more damage, not that he’d be wearing these clothes again. He pulled off the tunic and cast it aside, the shirt following a moment later.

Arthur looked at him for a moment, then reached out to run a hand across Merlin’s chest. “You’re beautiful.”

Merlin stared at him. Yes, this was Arthur. And he’d just said that. He had no clue what to say in reply, so he just finished removing Arthur’s tunic, running his hands up under the shirt as Arthur sighed.

After a moment he removed the shirt too, and moved down Arthur’s body, but he pulled him back up. “No.”

Merlin suddenly remembered what he was doing. _He doesn’t want it, he knows it’s me, ohgods I’m_ dead!

But Arthur smiled at him, unlaced his breeches and pulled them off, then wriggled underneath him as he tried to get his own breeches off. Merlin did his best to help, but he was a bit distracted by the motion.

When they were both naked Arthur kissed him again, hot and filthy and promising, and when he pulled back he gasped, “Fuck me.”

“ _What?!_ ” _I can’t have heard that right; I’m hallucinating._

Arthur shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet his eyes. “I…please, Merlin. I need this.”

And, once again, there was no way Merlin could refuse him. “Oh gods, just…of course I will!”

Arthur looked at him then, with such a hopeful expression that Merlin almost laughed. “You will?”

Merlin kissed him instead. “Yes, I will.”

There was a bottle of oil in his hand, conjured from somewhere. Merlin blinked at it, startled, thinking he’d lost control of his magic, before remembering that dreams followed their own rules.

His conscience was screaming again. _The only reason he’s trusting you with this is that it’s a dream, he doesn’t know it’s you, you can’t do this!_

But it was the only chance he’d ever have, and, here and now, Arthur wanted it, _needed_ it, and Merlin had never been able to refuse him anything, even if it was far more unpleasant than this promised to be.

He uncapped the oil, pouring it onto his fingers. He didn’t need to use it, but if this was the only chance he’d get to do this he was damned well going to do it properly.

He took one last look at Arthur’s face, making sure that this really was alright, then reached down with his oil-slick fingers to stroke over Arthur’s entrance.

Arthur hissed, and Merlin pulled back, but Arthur growled, “Dammit, Merlin, just _do_ it!”

So he eased a finger in, slowly, watching Arthur’s face the whole while. He wore a look of intense concentration, as if determined to keep from making any more noise.

After a moment Merlin added another finger. Arthur gritted his teeth, but otherwise didn’t react. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Arthur was acting as if he was going through some sort of endurance trial and refused to submit. Merlin would be insulted if it hadn’t been for the way Arthur had asked him for this.

He crooked his fingers, and Arthur made a small noise that was not quite a whimper. Determined now, Merlin sought the spot inside Arthur that he knew of from the last time he’d been in Arthur’s dream and from the times is Ealdor with Will.

When he found it, Arthur gasped, “ _Fuck!_ ” and arched toward him. Merlin stretched him wider, occasionally going back to that spot, as Arthur bit down on his moans.

“You _can_ admit you’re enjoying this, you know,” Merlin told him, as he added a third finger. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I… _nggh!_ ” Arthur threw his head back, teeth gritted as Merlin, tired of his reticence, pressed against the spot inside him over and over until he let out a broken moan. “God, _Merlin!_ ”

Merlin smiled, adding a fourth finger as Arthur ordered, “Now, now, for God’s sake, Merlin!”

Merlin took pity on him and pulled his fingers out, using more of the oil to slick up his cock. He'd intended to enter him slowly, but Arthur pressed up against him and he slid in all at once.

He tried to stay still a moment, to give both himself and Arthur time to adjust, but Arthur was moving against him, thrusting up in little jerks of his hips, and hissing, “ _Move,_ damn you!”

Merlin didn’t have much choice in the matter. Not with Arthur hot and tight around him, his hair matted to his forehead and his eyes wild. He pulled out and pushed back in again, sure he wasn’t going to last very long and cursing that fact.

Arthur had given up his attempts to keep quiet, swearing and gasping in equal measure, his legs locked around Merlin’s hips, his hands scrabbling at Merlin’s shoulders.

Merlin began to lose his rhythm as his orgasm approached and he reached between them to stroke Arthur’s cock.

“God, Merlin, fuck _yes_ , God…” Arthur’s nails were scrabbling at his back now, hard enough to draw blood, but Merlin didn’t care, and then Arthur was coming, his entire body stiffening. “ _Merlin_ …love…you!”

Merlin stiffened too, in shock, but then his own orgasm overtook him, and he was lost.

When he came back to himself he found he was slumped over Arthur, stroking his hair, his softening cock slipping from him.

“Did you mean that?” he asked, pulling back so he could look Arthur in the eye. _He can’t have. And anyway, even if he did, this is a dream…_

“I did.”

The scene started to fog again in a manner Merlin knew meant the dream was ending, and he was abruptly back in his own bed, a cry of frustration on his lips.

Arthur loved him. At least, in the dreams he loved him. Merlin was not going to go back again, no matter what he had to do to stop it. He wished the dream had lasted just a few seconds longer, so he could have told Arthur he loved him.

It was true. He’d always loved Arthur, from the first time he’d done something stupidly noble, but now that love had shifted, expanded, to take on a romantic, a sexual element. And he’d been robbed of the only chance he would ever have to confess it.

He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The delegation from Rheged came, and Arthur played the part set to him, polite and attentive to all the nobles’ daughters without giving any one cause to think he favoured her.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he complained to Merlin after they’d been in Camelot several days.

“They’ll be gone soon,” Merlin muttered distractedly. Arthur only had to play a part for a few more days, until the delegation left. Uther and Urien had settled for a mutual trade agreement, Camelot’s textiles for Rheged’s ores, so Arthur would not have to marry one of the nobles’ daughters. This time.

Arthur only had to play a part for a few more days, but now, in addition to keeping his magic secret from Arthur, Merlin had to somehow manage to conceal the fact that he loved him, until such time as Arthur did get married. He sighed.

Arthur looked over at him with actual concern. “Are you alright, Merlin? You’ve been looking tired lately.”

Merlin laughed to himself. He’d resorted to stealing Gaius’ sleeping draughts, in the hopes they’d keep his magic from taking over once he fell asleep. They worked, after a fashion. They kept him from visiting Arthur’s dreams, but they didn’t stop his own dreams, which were almost as bad.

He was tired, and depressed, and probably the only reason Arthur hadn’t noticed before this was he’d been preoccupied with the delegation.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked, getting up from his chair and moving over to him. “Do you need to see Gaius?”

“Gaius can’t help me,” Merlin murmured, staring miserably at the floor.

“Then who can?”

He didn’t answer.

“Merlin, look at me.”

He shook his head, still staring at the floor. Arthur took his chin in his hand and forced his head up.

“Tell me what’s the matter,” he said, and he was _right there,_ looking sincerely concerned, and Merlin didn’t think about the consequences, didn’t think about anything, just surged forward and kissed him.

Arthur pushed him away. “What the hell, Merlin?!”

Cold reality reasserted itself, as he realised what he had done. “I…I’m sorry, I just…” But there was no reason, no explanation he could offer, so he turned to flee.

Arthur caught his wrist and drew him back, and light as the pressure was Merlin couldn’t break it. Arthur looked at him, his expression haunted. “Why did you do that?”

“I…” But what could he say? That he’d invaded Arthur’s dreams and violated him while he was there, and now he was in love with him?

“Tell me why you did that,” Arthur insisted, looking like a man who’d been offered something he’d never hoped to have, only to have it snatched away again.

When Merlin still didn’t answer, Arthur leaned down and kissed him.

Merlin moaned and kissed him back, for the first time with a clear conscience. This wasn’t a dream–Arthur was awake and he knew what he was doing and he was kissing him anyway.

Merlin ran his hands under Arthur’s tunic, seeking skin, as Arthur laid kisses along his jaw, moving to lick behind his ear.

Merlin gasped and his fingers clawed at Arthur’s back.

Arthur pulled away long enough to let Merlin draw his tunic over his head, tearing the laces, and remove his shirt before sucking at his throat hard enough to bruise.

Merlin’s hands were all over Arthur, his back, his sides, his hips, his arse, as Arthur moved back to kiss him again, his tongue forcing its way between Merlin’s lips, staking a claim.

Arthur had been backing him across the room, and his legs suddenly hit the side of Arthur’s bed. Arthur pushed him down onto it, still kissing him.

They only parted long enough to breathe, then went back to kissing as Merlin unlaced Arthur’s breeches.

At that, Arthur suddenly pulled back. “You. Naked. Now.”

Merlin gladly complied, disrobing as Arthur removed his breeches. When he was done, he climbed on top of Arthur, who parted his legs to let him sink between them.

He still couldn’t believe this was happening, that Arthur really _did_ want him, but Arthur was thrusting against him, his hard cock, irrefutable evidence of his desire, sliding slick and sweet against Merlin’s own.

He threw his head back, lost in the sensations for a long moment, then, with supreme effort, stilled Arthur’s hips with his hands. “No.”

Arthur’s eyes were wide with desire, but Merlin saw the sudden uncertainty in them and leaned down to kiss it away. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered against Arthur’s lips.

 _He won’t let you do that, not now, not in reality!_ Merlin thought, but Arthur swallowed and gasped, “Under the mattress.”

After a moment of fumbling, Merlin came up with a vial of leather oil. The implications of that, the thought of Arthur touching himself in the middle of the night, perhaps thinking of him, sent a bolt of desire through him.

He poured a liberal amount of oil into his palm, knowing that this time he _had_ to do it properly, and breached Arthur with the tip of one finger.

He was tight, moreso than he’d been in the dream, and as Merlin pushed his finger the rest of the way in, a shadow of pain crossed his face.

“Shhh, relax,” Merlin whispered, and stroked Arthur’s hip to gentle him, then took hold of his cock with his free hand.

Arthur’s head fell back on the pillow, and the muscles clenching around his finger loosened a little. “That’s it. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

“I…know,” Arthur gasped, and Merlin’s heart ached at the fact that, yes, Arthur _did_ trust him.

He pulled his finger out, added more oil, and pushed two fingers in.

Arthur whimpered, and Merlin held still for a long moment, stroking Arthur’s cock until he relaxed enough for him to push further in.

He started stretching Arthur, scissoring his fingers, looking for–

Arthur gave a broken cry and his hips jerked. Merlin smiled, and hit the spot again.

Arthur’s hands were in constant motion, one moment fisting in the bedsheets, the next on Merlin’s shoulders, then his hips. Merlin added a third finger, kissing Arthur to distract him.

He found himself becoming lost in the kiss, although he still moved his fingers.

“Now,” Arthur gasped against his mouth.

Merlin pulled back, shaking his head. “Not yet. Soon.”

Arthur growled in frustration as Merlin added a fourth finger, but the growl turned to a cry of “Jesusfuck, _Merlin!_ ” as Merlin crooked his fingers again.

Finally Merlin couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his fingers out, as Arthur whined in protest, and poured out more oil, spilling it but getting enough on his shaking hands so he could slick his cock, almost coming from the light pressure, and then finally, _finally,_ he was pushing into Arthur, and Arthur was so tight and hot he almost thrust, but he held himself back somehow.

He braced himself with hands on either side of Arthur’s body as he eased into him. Arthur’s eyes were closed, a small furrow between his brows.

When he was all the way in he sighed and waited for Arthur to relax, laying butterfly kisses all over his face.

The furrow in Arthur’s brow eased, and his eyes opened. “Move.”

Merlin tried a tentative thrust and Arthur gasped and bucked into him.

It wasn’t like the dream. Their rhythm was off, and Arthur was still so tight around him, too tight, it had to hurt, but for all that, it was so much better.

Arthur stared up at him, pupils blown. “I’ve…dreamed about this,” he confessed.

Merlin groaned. “So have I.” He buried his face in Arthur’s shoulder, as Arthur began a steady litany of “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.”

Arthur’s hands were on his hips, hard enough to bruise, and this time the marks would remain. Merlin, nearly mindless, overwhelmed with pleasure and sensation and _Arthur,_ lost control of his tongue. As he came he cried out, “Arthur... _gods_ …gods, Arthur, I love you!”

Arthur’s eyes flew open, but a moment later Merlin felt moisture soak his stomach, as Arthur gave a guttural cry.

He slumped atop Arthur, who let out a muffled, “Oof!”

Merlin’s thoughts came together slowly. He had just had sex with Arthur. In reality, not in a dream. More, Arthur had let him fuck him. Then he remembered what he’d said as he’d come, and stiffened.

Arthur was stroking his hair, but let him pull away. “Did you mean that?” he asked softly, his eyes locked with Merlin.

“I did,” Merlin replied, seized with a sense of déjà vu. “I love you, Arthur.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, not looking at Merlin. “I…” he stopped, flushing.

Merlin smiled at him. “It’s OK. You don’t have to say it.”

Maybe one day Arthur would be able to tell him he loved him. Maybe one day Merlin would be able to tell Arthur about his magic. But now, today, they had finally found each other, and that was enough.


End file.
